


means and procedures

by Lake (beyond_belief)



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 2017-2018 Sports Season, Kneeling, M/M, Milwaukee Admirals, Sequel, implied Anthony Richard/Adam Payerl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 07:44:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17914700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beyond_belief/pseuds/Lake
Summary: Follow-up to "methods", in which there's actual porn this time.





	means and procedures

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [methods](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10602030) by [Lake (beyond_belief)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beyond_belief/pseuds/Lake). 



> Finish a sequel I started in October of '17? ON BRAND.

Richie ducks under his arm in the dressing room, tucking one side of his body close against Petter's. "All right, Richie?" Petter asks, as he squeezes Richie's shoulders, leaving his tie forgotten for the moment.

"Could I come to your place tonight?"

Petter looks at his face as the noise of the room ebbs and flows around them, no one else paying them any attention. Richie seems pale and his lips are pressed together in a thin, tight line. He's almost shaky under Petter's arm, which Petter thinks is understandable; it had been that sort of game. There are shadows under his eyes. "Of course, if you want to," Petter says, almost automatically, and Richie sags a little in relief. 

In Petter's car, Richie looks uncomfortable in the passenger seat, so Petter reaches over and rests a hand lightly on his knee. "I didn't sleep well," Richie says after a minute. "Then had too much coffee, and then the loss - I'm sorry I'm like this."

"Don't be sorry. Stupid to be sorry." 

Richie makes a sound like he's not convinced and Petter sweeps his thumb over the nice material of Richie's dress pants. "At least we didn't have to ride the bus home for an hour after," Petter adds, forcing a smile, and Richie chuckles at that. "Do you want to change out of your suit?"

"Oh, probably," Richie replies, looking down at himself like he's forgotten what clothes he has on. 

Petter pulls the car into his designated stall in the garage, and they take the elevator to his floor. "I'll leave the door open," he promises Richie, before pushing the button for the floor Richie lives on with Allard.

He's out of his own suit and looking for snacks that he can hand-feed Richie if necessary when there's a light tap on the door, followed by Richie slipping into the apartment. He's wearing a new-looking undershirt, but his sweats that have clearly seen better days. He immediately walks into Petter's offered hug. "Did someone take care of you this summer?" Petter asks; he'd be remiss if he didn't, and also he really doubts anyone did.

"No." Richie shivers, and Petter strokes a hand lightly over his back.

"Go and lie down on the couch, okay? On your back. Close your eyes."

Richie does as he's told. Petter leaves the crackers and cheese on the countertop for later, gets two bottles of water from the fridge, and follows Richie into the living area. He strokes one hand over Richie's stubbly jaw. "You don't have to do this," he says, because he should at least remind Richie. And himself. "You want to play basketball until midnight to feel better, I will play."

Richie shakes his head, not opening his eyes. Petter scratches his fingers gently through Richie's hair. "Okay. Sit up, only a little, so I can sit down."

Richie does, and Petter settles onto the couch, then guides Richie back down to his lap. "Granny," Richie murmurs as Petter touches his hair. "I miss Pays."

"Me, too."

"He always let me sleep on him on the bus." Richie sighs. "It was nice. And he let me stay at his place, a few times. We didn't tell anyone else."

Milwaukee has unofficial rules about that sort of thing, just in case something happens while one of the rookies is kneeling, like they go under too far. Petter's aware that they're sort of breaking that rule right now, even though Richie's not a rookie anymore, and he's not on his knees. He slides his hand down to rest on Richie's upper chest. "Pays took good care of you?"

Richie nods. "You can tell me about it later, if you want to," Petter says, and pushes the palm of his hand - not too hard - just at the base of Richie's throat. Years ago - it feels like forever, really - TJ had done it like this for him, and Petter remembers feeling like he was floating. 

It feels good doing it for someone else, and Richie melts after only a few seconds. Petter turns on the television and halfway pays attention to the basketball scores being discussed on ESPN. The rest of him stays focused on Richie's breathing, slow and mostly even except for the occasional and almost imperceptible shiver, the slightest of movements under Petter's hand.

When ESPN goes to commercial, Petter strokes his free hand over Richie's hair. "Okay, _dyr_?"

"Yes, thank you," Richie murmurs.

He's too sweet like this. "Feel a little better?"

"Yes."

Petter pushes just a tiny bit harder and Richie's eyes flutter. "You like this?" Petter asks.

Richie nods.

"And no one did anything for you over the summer?" Petter's no pro at this, but it seems to him if Richie needs it, he should be asking for help. 

"I didn't know who to ask at home. Then we were so busy all of the time at camp that I was too tired to find out who to ask." He shivers again. "At least here I know I can ask you to put me under."

Petter thinks about that for a while, letting Richie breathe under his hand. _Ask you_ , not Smitty or Bazzer, the only two real vets left from last season. Finally he asks, "You only need - this?"

Richie's eyelids flutter again. "You could. Do more."

Petter has the sudden mental image of Richie on his knees, opening his mouth for Petter's cock, which is _not_ what this is supposed to be about. "Tell me what you want," he says, sliding his hand down to the bottom of Richie's t-shirt, then slipping his fingers underneath it, brushing over Richie's stomach. 

Richie's face, already a little flushed, turns even more red. "You have to ask," Petter adds, because that's also a rule here, and he wants both of them to be sure. He pulls Richie's hair, slowly and with gentleness so that it doesn't hurt, and Richie shudders hard. Then he takes a deep breath and turns his head inward, so his face is pressed to Petter's stomach. "You can't ask?" Petter murmurs. "Did Pays make you ask?"

Richie nods. "And?" Petter presses.

"He made… suggestions? Then I had to ask, for - for the things I wanted." He shudders, and Petter squeezes his hip, noting that Richie's cock is clearly visible through his sweats. 

"Tell me?" Petter asks, and he combs his fingers through Richie's hair, giving Richie a few seconds to hide his face. Then he tugs Richie's hair again. "Tony."

"First time I went over, just kneeling, easy to ask," Richie murmurs. "Nice. I felt like - soft, afterward? Like I had nothing to worry over at all. Then we watched a movie I don't remember and I fell asleep, on the sofa, with my head on his thigh."

Petter nudges Richie's shirt up enough to swipe his thumb back and forth over the smooth skin over his bottom ribs. "What then?"

"The next time I knelt on the bed - he made me ask, to kneel on his bed." Richie shivers, and Petter gets that being invited into someone's bed, not even for sex, is an intimate thing. "He kept his hands on me the whole time."

"You wanted that?"

Richie nods. Petter traces slow circles over his ribs. "Felt like floating. I didn't realize how turned on I was until I woke up a little." He inhales sharply. "Pays asked if I wanted him to touch me, so I have to ask."

"What did that feel like?"

"Embarrassed," Richie mumbles, wiggling a little.

Petter strokes his hot cheek. "You're red right now."

"Granny…"

Petter decides to take pity on him, this once. "So Pays touched you?"

Richie nods. His breath seems to come a little faster. Petter resumes tracing gentle patterns over his ribs. "He - got my cock out, jerked me off. And he stayed like, holding me up the whole time?"

Petter can imagine it: Pays slotted up against Richie's back and reaching around to touch his cock. "Was it good?" he asks. His voice sounds a little scratchy.

Richie squirms again. "Yes."

"Do you want me to do that to you?" 

Richie shudders and his hips jerk. Petter wonders, for a moment, if he could get Richie to come without ever being touched. It seems likely. But he's also really enjoying the feel of Richie's skin under his palm more than he thought he would, so just talking him through an orgasm seems like it'd be kind of a wasted opportunity. 

He slides his hand down to curve over Richie's hip, over the sweats. "Richie, what's the answer?" 

"Whatever you want," Richie whispers after a long pause. "Just - anything."

Petter pushes Richie's shirt up further, rubs his knuckles over Richie's trembling abs. "You're sure?" he asks, in as clear a voice as he possibly can, because he doesn't want to fuck around with Richie and have it be weird tomorrow. 

"Yes." 

It wasn't the sort of loss where Petter wanted to punch someone afterward, or kick a wall or break a stick, but the kind that left a strange bitter taste in the back of his mouth. He leans down now and kisses Richie, softly, and Richie kisses back just as soft. It goes a long way towards dissolving the lingering bitterness that's left. "Thanks," Petter whispers when they part, and Richie smiles. 

"I'm going to touch your cock now," Petter adds. Richie shudders at that, then whines slightly as Petter pulls his sweats down just enough to free his cock. He rubs his palm over Richie's bare hip slowly as he waits for Richie to calm a little. "You like it a certain way?" he thinks to ask. "I shouldn't go too fast, too slow?"

"Anything," Richie breathes. Petter leans down to kiss him again and fits his hand around Richie's cock as he does, swallowing the sound Richie makes. They keep kissing as Petter strokes him, slowly, learning the feel of Richie's length against his palm, noting what touches make him shiver the most. 

Then he cups his free hand around Richie's shoulder and holds him against his lap as he jerks him off, no longer going slowly. "Petter," Richie gasps, twisting, but Petter holds him mostly still. Richie's sweating now, his whole face red. 

"Come now," Petter whispers, putting the hand previously holding Richie's shoulder against his throat and pressing slightly, and Richie does, all over Petter's hand. Then he stills abruptly, his breathing quick, and Petter sees a few tears leak from the corners of his eyes. Gently, Petter strokes the hollow of his throat, not moving the hand that's around Richie's cock until Richie's breathing settles and the last of the tension drains out of him.

"You okay?" he asks, and Richie nods slowly. "Did you pretend I was Pays, touching you?" he adds, and Richie nods again. "That's all right, Richie. I like that, really. You text him later and tell him that."

Richie groans softly at that, so Petter strokes his cheek with his clean hand for a moment. Then Richie says, "You should get off, too," and slides off Petter's lap onto his knees on the floor.

"Don't have to," Petter insists, even as the mental picture of Richie sucking his dick surfaces in his mind again, even as he moves to spread his knees so Richie can kneel between them.

"I want to."

Petter lasts an embarrassingly short time, but figures that's to be expected considering tonight's circumstances, and once he's come on Richie's face, Richie lays his cheek on Petter's thigh and they don't move for quite a while. Finally he runs his clean fingers through Richie's hair and says, "Shower. Then you can stay, in my bed."


End file.
